John sat upon his throne, resplendent in a robe of embroidered blue velvet, toying with an emerald necklace, and wearing the golden crown of England's kings. His mother, Eleanor, stood to the king's left, eschewing the throne beside him, and looking austere in a simple blue gown and white wimple. William Marshal stood before the throne dais looking every bit the warrior in his armor, his sword hanging from his belt, the white in his mane of hair illuminated by the sun, accenting his age. To the king's right sat Princess Isabella, looking lovely in a satin dress that shone like pearls. She said nothing, but watched the others with a wary eye. Godfrey chose to do the same, at least for the moment. He stood in a shadowed recess to the side of the thrones where he could see and hear everything, but where the others were less likely to take notice of him. For now he would play the role of spider, and allow Eleanor and William to buzz around the king's head, harrying him. He was sure it wouldn't be long before they managed to get themselves tangled in John's pride and stubbornness and uncertainty.
